Four little Moments
by cookie-moi
Summary: Or rather four little oneshots about our favourite nurse and doctor. Series 2 spoilers only for parts 3 and 4 to come.
1. Chocolate

**Four little moments with Isobel and Richard**

_Disclaimer: Yes, I know. JF and ITV own Downton Abbey. I only own the DVD boxset..._

_Other: Again, written for my 1000 words a day challenge. This is the first part, the next story the second one because I simply could not get my brain to imagine something longer. The 'moments' themselves can stand alone. _

_By the way... Isobel and her favourite doctor are currently overtaking my brain. I need to stop this somehow... But first... read on with the first moment. ^^_

~~o~~

**1. Chocolates**

Isobel Crawley was rather angry with dear Doctor Clarkson at the moment. And she had been so since he told her several days ago that women simply weren't designed to be doctors because of their mental disposition. Because of their fragile sensibilities. She had shown him fragile sensibilities then when she had angrily told him how she had set bones and treated infections while he nursed cuts and bruises during the week before. Put up with the audacity with which he had dared to throw those words into her face she had stormed out of his office and refused to either talk or even see him.

Somehow the other nurses had heard about their "discussion", even though she was sure that she hadn't lost one word about it, and now treated the doctor with cold politeness. If he was lucky. Some of them had adopted the course of simply ignoring him. Of course they cared about the patients, but they knew what they had to do, even without a Doctor telling them. Even though they weren't "designed" for it.

Some of the more resolute ones had even started a strike and within two days he found himself only with a skeleton crew of nursing staff staying in the hospital. And before he knew it he had to deal with a flood of different cases and patients himself.

She really hoped that it taught him a lesson even though she hadn't encouraged the other nurses to do it and silently prayed that whoever of the nurses stayed at the hospital had a watchful eye on the patients.

Her days had been spend with staying at home, letting him stir in his own juice as long as there wasn't some emergency that needed the nurses attention, and reading through all the medical journals she could find. He hadn't shown up on her doorstep until now and she refused to seek him out. She was sure that it would stay this way until he managed to get everything at the hospital under control.

But to her surprise he found another way to say he was sorry.

A few days after their falling out Molesley entered her drawing room in the evening while she was writing a letter and presented her with a small basket. Taking it from him and sending him to see when dinner would be ready she placed it on a low table. For a moment she simply stood in front of it, wondering about who would send her a basket and especially what was in it. Carefully she stretched her hand to the lid and opened it an inch to peer inside. And then she realised what was in it and opened it completely.

Inside lay a stack of medical journals, all brand new, and a little box of exquisite chocolates. Taking the journals and setting them to the side a simple white card fell out and onto the carpet. Slowly she bend down, picked it up and opened it curiously. Inside of it she found Doctor Clarkson's distinctive handwriting.

_I shouldn't have said what I did._

_I'm sorry._

And at the bottom of the card she found the small line: _I really want you and my nurses back._

With a smile she unpacked one of the chocolates and gently nibbled on it, the warm velvety taste filling her mouth. The rich and heavy flavour helped her to accept his apology for his mindlessly spoken words and come to the decision to go for a walk the next day. A walk back into his office to forgive him and to tell him that he never did not have her. And maybe she'd bring these chocolates, too.

~~o~~

_Actually, I think the medical journals worked more as an apology for her then the chocolate and the card did together. I just see her as that kind of woman. ^^_


	2. The bench

_Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JF. I just borrow it to play for a while._

_Other: The second part of the 1000 words featuring Isobel and Richard having a moment of quietness._

~~o~~

**2. The bench in the hospital garden**

He found her outside in the green garden, sitting on the old wodden bench hidden behind a corner. Hiding her away from the rest of the nurses, patients and everybody else who wanted to see or talk to her. which lately seemed to be a lot of persons. Family and strangers alike.

They had taken to use this place to get away from the soldiers, the broken men and crying boys, inside. It had always been his place to find his calm again and the nurses did well to remember not to disturb him there if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Thirty years he had spend sitting on that bench already. Always sitting there alone.

And one day, maybe two months after she had come to Downton, he had found her sitting on his bench, in his little corner of the hospital garden, regaining her calmness and drying off some stray tears to his mortal embarrassement. It had been the moment when he had gotten to know a much softer and fragile side of her, of the woman who had taken matters into her own hand with Mr. Drake and practically forced him to use a medical procedure he had only read about. But it had also been the moment he had decided to allow another person to share this place with him, to share what was on his mind. He had allowed her in back then.

Now she was sitting there again. Leaning back against the grey wall of the hospital, staring into he wild green of this part of the hospital garden, looking like this due to lack of care. Slowly he strolled over, knowing she had noted his presence only by the faint nod of her head. Sitting down on the other end of the bench he kept the silence. They always sat in silence on the old bench. It was a place without words. Only thoughts and emotions. If they needed to talk, they walked. But here they only thought and watched.

The breeze gently moved the high grass and caressed the red and yellow flowers, twirled around the hem of her skirt and played an unknown melody in the leaves of the high trees.

He closed his eyes and lent his head back against the wall. Let the thoughts of all the pain and suffering inside the building sweep out of his mind. Quietly he listened to the singing of the birds, the faint rustle of the grass in the breeze and her calm breathing.

Sometimes he wished he could stay on this bench forever. With her by his side and the gentle breeze on his face. Leaving all the horrors of war behind in the hospital and rather simply sit with her.

Her sigh brought him back out of his mind and back to their little hidden island of calmness. Slowly turning to her he let his gaze wander over her pale but content face for a moment. Taking in her fair skin and beholding her watching the wild flowers with those beautiful eyes. He stood before he knew what he was doing and told himself that it was simply to stretch his legs. His eyes met hers and he felt himself in danger to drown in those deep brown pools. Full of fire and compassion for what they were doing and who they were caring for. Eyes he could lose himself in, drown in the passion that sometimes flared up in them. But then hadn't he told her years ago that they would sink or swim together?

Without thought he offered his hand to her and she laid her smaller one in it, without hesitating for one second, and let him help her up. Smoothing down her skirt with her other hand she smiled up at him and he felt calmness spreading through him again. He kept her hand in his, marveled about how soft her fingers felt against his rougher ones.

And then, without really thinking about what he was doing, he pulled her towards him. Carefully but determined stole he a gentle kiss. A light and quick pressing of his lips to hers, while his hand found her waist. And which she answered with her warm hand gently stroking his cheek.

But he did not go further. No deep kisses. No passionate embraces. No hands winding themselve into her hair. No fingers trying to losen his tie.

Instead he turned around and pulled her hand to rest in the crook of his arm. And then he slowly started walking. With her by his side. Walking in silence. Walking in calmness.

~~o~~

_There are two other moments to come, which certainly will stand alone._

_Please leave a review if you liked them. And if not, just leave one all the same. As for everybody else... have a cookie.^^_


	3. His favourite pen

_Disclaimer: Do I really have to say it again? ... It belongs to JF, and not me. No matter how hard I wish. _

_Other: The next moment of the four moments from my 1000 words... I know I promised two parts up till Friday... but it's Thursday and this moment is actually 1000 words long. And after reading over it again I had kicked the last part out, because it would not fit. So there will be a last part up on Sunday... hopefully. ^^ _

~~o~~

**3. His favourite pen**

She shouldn't have done it. Shouldn't have taken it without asking him but there wasn't much time between making her final decision and her actually leaving Downton to get to France. There wasn't much chance to get a calm moment to talk to him again. And so she had found her way into his office while he was making the rounds between all those beds filled with soldiers and took his favourite pen.

She carried it in her purse when she crossed the channel during a storm on an old ferry, seeing her nursing skills at high demand. It was in her jacket when she signed papers noting her presence in Paris and her new responsibilities with the red cross. She held it in her hand when she inspected her little apartment for the first time. She crossed out the first name on the missing list and put it on the dead list with it. She wrote a letter to a young girl, explaining her brother was coming home again with it. And many letters, too many letters, to him of which not a single one got posted. Not wishing him to worry about her, not knowing how to tell him that she was alive but missing him and his friendship, his companionships during those moments she lay alone in her bed. How she wished to be able to return again, to be with him again but how her pride and anger at Cousin Cora held her back.

His pen was always close to her. In her purse, in her hand, pocket or coat. One memorable time even in her corset. How it had gotten there was still a mystery. Thinking she had lost it somewhere she had been devastated, only to fall down into her bed in joyful relief when she took of her corset in the evening and it clattered to the ground. She had it with her, everywhere she went. It became a good luck charm to her and she never let it out of her sight or her hands.

The one time one of the doctors borrowed it she nearly bit said man's head off. Of course she had apologised for her behaviour afterwards, telling him to please not think about it further. He had sent her flowers because he apparently had also felt guilty. That, and he had planned for them to get to know each other far better. But she had gratefully declined his rather bold offer when they had gone out to dinner once. As long as she had another man's pen in her purse she wouldn't go to dinner with that doctor, or any man in general, again.

The pen reminded her of Downton and the safety of green grass, of people who missed her or at least pretended to do so. Of high walls around her back garden and the lake near the grand house. The crowded wards of the hospital and the paths through the fields. It carried the memory of the wild and fresh fragrance of the hospital garden's flowers in their little hidden corner and the smell of her perfume mixing with his aftershave during long hours of sorting the patient files. And of Richard Clarkson.

The pen ment home. And she wasn't sorry anymore that she had taken it without asking him for it.

~o~

When she finally returned from France, safe and sound, he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms. But instead he had to witness her calming and comforting her only son. How she held him against her chest like she had done after his birth. Seeing her slowly break inside while she tried to hold her child together.

Much later she found her way into his office, fighting back the tears that had threatened to fall the moment she laid eyes on her son. Avoiding the gentleness in his eyes and hands with which he would greet her she instead reached into her purse gave him his favourite pen back. Timidly apologising for taking it. But he only smiled at her and reached for her hands, telling her that at least now he knew where it had been all the time before he gently took it from her fingers to let it slide back into her purse. Telling her to keep it.

Then he reached into the pocket of his vest, deciding to confess something to her which he had intended her to never know and him never to tell. Before she had gone he had taken the liberty to search through her purse and claim her embroidered handkerchief as his own. Keeping it in the pocket of his vest, touching it with gentle fingers whenever he wanted to take a look at his pocket watch. And whenever he found the time he would take it out and run his fingers over the soft material. Feel the stitches where her initials and small purple flowers were emboidered in a corner of the fine white handkerchief. He had stolen it to keep her close to him.

Taking it out now he heard her breathing hitch and saw tears rolling down cheeks when he finally looked up. Carefully he pressed her handkerchief into her fingers to keep himself from reaching out and taking her into his arms. Fearing that after all these months she would shy away from his touch. But she only took the soft material from his fingers, stepped closer to him, gently opened the vest pocket with one hand while she put it back into the place it belonged with the other.

Then she let her hands glide over the material of his vest, feeling his warmth beneath her hands when they rested on his sides. Slowly she looked up to find his blue eyes watching her every move. Relief mingled with longing in the blue depths.

And then Isobel carefully leaned up and kissed him gently. Pressed her soft lips to his for a moment and he slid his hands over her arms. Kissed her back, not quite believing that he finally had the chance to do so again.

When the kiss ended he found tears rolling down her rosy cheeks but a smile on her lips. Carefully he stroked his fingers over her face to dry her tears away before he enveloped her in his arms. Resting in his embrace and savely against his body she closed her eyes and leant her head against his chest.

Softly he pressed a kiss in her hair, finally able to hold her again. And she had no need to remember him now because he was right there holding her. Keeping her close.

~~o~~

_This is what happens when I put my pencils behind my ears... _

_And as always there's a cookie jar hidden behind the review button. ;) _

_Off to bed now..._


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